


wicked games

by TheYuriUnnie



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: And Lots of It, Cult Leader Irene, Cults, Dom/sub, F/F, Face-Sitting, Femslash, GL, Hair-pulling, Jealousy, Lesbian Sex, Light Praise Kink, Murder, Murderous Lesbians, Peek-a-boo AU, Power Play, Punishment, Restraints, Rough Sex, Seulrene, Sex, Smut, Teasing, Yuri, coming quickly, face riding, light exhibitionism, mutual obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYuriUnnie/pseuds/TheYuriUnnie
Summary: seulgi and irene get wrapped up in each other before murdering somebody.(takes place in the universe of the peek-a-boo MV)
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Kang Seulgi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 250





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! i super duper enjoyed writing this story, i was really feeling my oats with all of the horror-ish imagery and irene and seulgi's unusual dynamic... this is specifically based off of the peek a boo MV, hence the murderous lesbians angle i went with akjbdkjf this is also my first time writing this particular, uh, "act" shall we say, so i hope it reads well and that you like it! without further ado, please enjoy! ♥

It was Seulgi’s turn to sharpen the knives this week.

She was stood in the silence of the dimly lit kitchen, gently grasping a well-worn barber’s razor with one hand, and steadying the whetstone on the counter with the other. She delicately dragged the blade up and down the sharpener, and the tender sound of metal scraping against stone was a small pleasure in her stalwart routine.

Up, and then slowly back down again. Up, down. Up, down.

The flat blade gleamed proudly in time with the languid dancing of the candle’s flame, which was her only source of light in the otherwise pitch-black room. Irene was strict about the use of light in her house – bright light was only permitted in rooms with no windows, because Irene decreed that it was best if the house looked abandoned most days of the year. After all, should some foolhardy teenagers trying to put on an air of bravery in front of their equally stupid friends wander into their home as a test of courage, they could be culled on the spot as an easy sacrifice.

 _She was right_ , Seulgi thought. _Irene knows what she’s talking about. She knows everything. That’s what makes her so great._

Up, down. Up, down.

Seulgi took extra care in handling this particular blade. The frail razor was one of Irene’s favourite toys – and by extension, one of Seulgi’s. She was going to use it tonight, too, to end the life of another unsuspecting pizza delivery man.

Finishing up her maintenance on the razor, Seulgi daintily tucked it back into its shabby leather carrying case; the cases’ buckles sealing it shut with a sharp, satisfying snap. She licked the pads of her thumb and index finger, and used them to snuff out the candle’s fading flame before departing for Irene’s room.

The smoky smell of candles burning through the darkness hung in the air of the house’s foyer – a silent tell that the rest of her housemates were busying themselves with their own chores before the killing. Yeri was tasked with reloading their supply of guns with ammunition, Joy was double-checking to see if the traps set around the house for unsuspecting rats were working correctly, and Wendy’s duty was to look through the phonebook to scout out a pizza parlour they hadn’t stolen a sacrifice away from yet.

Once she had found a suitable target, they planned to draw the blood of whatever unsuspecting delivery man was sent to their door tonight. A silent exhilaration permeated the atmosphere; the five of them didn’t get to kill every day, or even every _week_ , so nights that murders were planned to happen were always buzzing with an unquenchable excitement.

But before anything could take place, they had to make sure they were prepared. Sacrificing unwilling lambs to the slaughter for the sake of their own strength and youth was a team effort, and their operation was a well-oiled machine that required rigid maintenance.

There was one last thing Seulgi had to see to before the big event; and that was Irene.

Up the stairs Seulgi went. The bright red stockings covering her feet softened the padding of her steps, but the stairs still whined in protest beneath her every move. She knew every nook and cranny of their home so intimately that light wasn’t necessary for her to be able to navigate the halls. She moved effortlessly through the thick darkness, just like the ghoul she had become.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she took eleven steps to the left, and knocked on the door. How many times had Seulgi walked the path to Irene’s room? The others weren’t allowed in Irene’s room unless it was a dire emergency, but Seulgi was _different_. Seulgi was Irene’s right-hand, her confidant, the cog that kept the gears efficiently turning. She was required to keep in regular contact with their leader, and she couldn’t have been happier about that fact.

These strange, deep feelings for her leader had begun from the moment they had first locked eyes, in a heated gaze of mutual bloodlust. Though it was years ago by now, Seulgi remembered it like it had only been yesterday.

On the day they had first met, it was in the dead of night and mid-November. There were whispers of a vicious serial killer running amok in their small town; good, law abiding citizens were curled up in their beds at home at this time of night, fearful of what sort of bogeyman would emerge from the shadows to steal them away, should they dare to step outside their homes past dark.

Someone wandering into the woods during such an unsafe period of time would, _surely_ , be slaughtered on the spot. Woodlands were a dangerous place to be at any time of the year, let alone with a deranged murderer skulking around in them.

A crescent moon hung in the endless inky black of the night sky, piercing through the billowing fog that blanketed the woods. The unnerving glow of moonlight transformed the appearance of the leafless trees of the wood into decrepit, gnarled beasts, stricken with grief from the grotesque horrors they had to silently observe; surely, a setting such as this one would make any normal girl quiver with every step she took through it.

Kang Seulgi, on the other hand, was calmly sat by a small stream of water that flowed through the perilous forest.

She was humming a tune to herself as she rinsed fresh blood off of her knife, tainting the water with depraved shocks of red. The body of her latest victim was within arm’s reach, laying lifelessly in the foliage of the fallen leaves and brittle twigs of the forest floor. She was thoroughly pleased with herself; she was getting more efficient at murder with every kill she added to her record, bloodying only the blade of her knife and nothing else on her person.

Suddenly, the sound of a twig snapping beneath someone’s feet came from behind her.

She sat still a moment, slightly stunned by the notion that someone had followed her this far into the bramble of the wood. She had expected to see a police officer standing there, or perhaps a Joe Hero-type who had trailed behind her to ensure her safety; but instead, who she saw parting their way through the curtain of fog made her eyes widen in awe.

It was a woman. An ethereal, stunning woman.

Her pale skin looked porcelain beneath the light of the moon, and her jet-black locks of hair framed her face perfectly; she was a haunting vision of beauty amongst the derelict woodland behind her. She was dressed curiously – a long-sleeved dress that was bright red in colour, with the hem of it flowing all the way down to her ankles in length.

Her appearance made Seulgi’s heart flutter girlishly, but she wasn’t about to let her guard down around this strange woman; no matter how striking she may have been.

What was the most striking of all, though, was the smile she wore on her face. She looked thoroughly pleased with herself… was it because she was under the assumption that she had caught the serial killer in the act?

Seulgi stood up and tightened the hold she had on her knife, not once breaking eye contact with the haunting woman. The woman took a poised step toward her, and Seulgi didn’t waver, watching her every move with a calculating curiosity.

Finally, the woman broke the tense silence.

“Are _you_ the one who has been killing people in these woods?”

Although she spoke softly, her tone radiated confidence. Something about the sound of her voice made the hairs on the back of Seulgi’s neck stand on end.

“I am,” she admitted, though she wasn’t sure why.

The woman’s pleased smile grew into a chilling grin, and Seulgi’s grip on her weapon had grown so tight that the knuckles on her hand had flushed a sickly white. She took another step towards Seulgi, further closing the small distance between them with one confident stride.

“Wonderful,” the woman said in admiration. “Just… _wonderful_.”

Seulgi blinked in surprise.

“What do you want?”

“Forgive me…I’m a fan of your work, you see. I’ve been keeping up with all of your kills, and I find each one more enthralling than the last. I’m happy I could finally catch you in the act.”

Seulgi watched as she took another step forwards.

“I knew you would be a girl…” the woman said, and Seulgi felt a delighted chill rush up her spine. “The state you leave the bodies in is always beautiful.”

Wonderful? _Beautiful_? Of all the words she had heard used to describe her murders in the newspapers, these were certainly never among them. Was this woman trying to lull her into a false sense of security, or was she just as warped as Seulgi had become?

The woman reached out to place her hand on Seulgi’s bicep, and Seulgi reflexively thrust her knife in front of her.

It stopped a hair’s breadth from the woman’s face.

The blade glimmered menacingly beneath the judgment of the moon’s light, and the grin hadn’t left the strange woman’s face all the while. She gently grazed her fingertips along the length of Seulgi’s arm, starting from her bicep, and slowly making her way to her wrist. The motion was strangely intimate, and Seulgi found herself having to fight to keep her breath steady.

The woman wrapped her hand around Seulgi’s wrist, and brought it to her lips, turning her head to place a gentle kiss upon Seulgi’s pulse point.

“Your heart is racing,” the woman breathed, a light blush dusting her cheeks. The sight of her eager face made Seulgi’s own feel a bit warmer in turn.

“…Who _are_ you?”

The woman held the hem of her dress in each hand, offering Seulgi a polite curtsy. Seulgi lowered her knife out of feeling utterly perplexed.

“I am called Irene,” she said.

_Irene._

Though there was no way she could have known it at the time, the name Irene would go on to invoke intense feelings of adoration, serenity, and murderous intent in her heart and mind whenever she so much as heard it.

Irene continued.

“I’ve been on the lookout for girls like you.”

“Girls like me?” Seulgi said, quirking an eyebrow.

Irene took one final step in her direction, the fragile autumn leaves crunching beneath her, leaving next to no space between them. Seulgi could feel the woman’s excitable breath on her face, and the sensation made her back stiffen.

“Girls who live to kill,” Irene began, holding a few rogue strands of Seulgi’s hair between her fingers. “Girls with an unquenchable thirst for _blood_.”

At first, Seulgi didn’t reply. She was utterly befuddled and transfixed by this woman; she was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen, and was clearly as impassioned about killing as she was… perhaps even moreso.

“Miss Irene. You must know that I’m capable of killing you. Why risk showing yourself to me?”

“And what a wonderful way to die that would be,” Irene cooed. “But you see… I plan on killing many people, and I need the help of someone like you. For the sake of power. Of eternal youth. I need someone with the skill and the drive to carry them out. _You_.”

“…I don’t understand.”

Irene draped her arms loosely around Seulgi’s shoulders, and Seulgi’s breath hitched in her throat. Her free hand moved of its own accord, holding Irene’s hip with a strong grip.

“You don’t have to understand,” Irene whispered, her lips barely grazing against Seulgi’s, “just say yes. Come with me. I promise…you’ll be my favourite.”

Seulgi’s mind was swimming with a thousand different thoughts and feelings at once; the buzz of the adrenaline rush from having someone’s blood on her hands had gradually faded away, being replaced with a confusing arousal thanks to this bizarre, stunning woman who was hanging all over her.

It’s not as though she had any grand plans; any real reason behind her murders. She simply enjoyed carrying them out, almost with the same level of enthusiasm of a hobbyist. 

If Irene could give her life purpose… who was she to say no?

Thus began their eternal waltz as master and servant; as a king and her loyal knight. Seulgi had killed for Irene a countless amount of times since then, hoping that each death would make Irene happier than the last.

…

That was five years ago, now. Five years of debauchery spent serving at Irene’s side, collecting more members to add to their cause, and falling more and more in love with the woman who would gradually become the leader of this complicated operation.

So lost was she in her own reminiscing, she had all but forgotten why she had made her way to Irene’s room in the first place.

Looking around to ensure she wasn’t being watched first, Seulgi crouched down in front of the imposing door to Irene’s room, adjusting herself until she was eye-level with the doorknob. She balanced herself on the balls of her feet and leaned forward, resting her hands on the door.

She let one eye slip shut as the other peered onward, looking through the keyhole to Irene’s room.

Irene was a woman who kept most of her personal thoughts behind a daunting lock and key, but Seulgi so desperately wanted to know them all; she would do her best to find out through any means necessary… even ones as deprived as this.

She saw very little, much to her dismay. Curious flickers of shadows swaying against the wall piqued her interest, but told her nothing. The curtains were drawn, as well, but they always were.

 _I’ll just have to go in there and see for myself_ , Seulgi thought.

Seulgi stood back up properly, and rapped her knuckles against the mahogany of the door that stood between her and Irene.

Four knocks in quick succession; as always.

Seulgi’s eyes fluttered closed as her anticipation mounted. Not only was she looking forward to what they were going to be doing in there, but any moment now, she would be privy to Irene’s _voice_. Hearing it was, in itself, a privilege; the sound would grace her ears like a gentle kiss from a lover, and thinking of it in those terms made her selfish little heart beat wildly in her ribcage.

“Enter.”

Taking a breath to steady her racing heart, Seulgi pushed the heavy door open with a twist of its ornate knob and stepped inside.

Irene’s room was a perfect reflection of who she was. She had lit a lantern to illuminate the space, and the hardworking flame inside of its chamber painted the room in faint oranges and outstanding reds. Beautiful, freshly cut roses adorned every surface they could, and the pleasant scent of them wafted through the air, lazily tickling at Seulgi’s nose as she shut the door behind her. Tools of murder and wanton destruction protruded from here and there, alongside the pretty flowers; the glint of the barrel of a gun from beneath her bed, and a striking machete hung proudly above the doorframe, to name but a few.

Irene herself was sat on her favourite recliner, which was propped up against the north wall of the room. She had been reading a small book, and shut it with a snap once Seulgi had entered. 

“Seulgi.”

“Lady Irene,” Seulgi said in reverence, humbly bowing her head.

“Please, have a seat.”

Irene motioned in front of her, and Seulgi happily obliged, making her way over to where Irene sat with a spring in her step. It took all of her will power to suppress the eager smile that threatened to spread across her face. How she adored hearing _her_ Irene say her name; to pay her any attention at all was a pleasure she could hardly bear.

Seulgi sat on her knees in front of Irene, looking up at her leader with hearts in her eyes. Irene looked down at her with a sharp gaze, and a hint of a smile on her lips. The tension in the room was thick; Seulgi’s yearning heart practically called Irene’s name through the silence, and Irene quietly observed her every twitch and blink from her vantage point.

“Tell me, Seulgi,” Irene began, and Seulgi felt her own shoulders stiffen at the sound of her name, “do you have anything to report?”

“No, Lady Irene. Nothing at all. Everyone is efficiently doing their part to contribute to the next killing.”

Irene said nothing, but extended her hand outward, gently propping her fingertips under Seulgi’s chin. Seulgi’s nostrils flared – even the smallest brush of contact from Irene sent a dizzying sensation coursing through her veins.

Irene used those fingers to tilt Seulgi’s head to the left, and then to the right, ever so slowly. She carefully studied the side profile of her favourite, most trusted person, and Seulgi felt sweat beginning to bead on her forehead under the scrutinizing eye of her beloved.

“And what of Wendy? Has she found a suitable parlour yet?”

Another tilt of Seulgi’s head. Another exhale to steady herself.

It was getting more and more difficult for Seulgi to process the words Irene was saying to her, and to form coherent replies, at that. Irene quietly watched her chest rise and fall in time with her ragged breathing, a curious glint in her eye all the while.

“She’s still looking, ma’am,” Seulgi said, “but I’d wager that she’ll find one within the hour.”

“An hour... very good. That gives us ample time to do what we need to, no?”

“Yes, Lady Irene.”

Seulgi couldn’t help but break into a smile, then; a smile that said she was eager to please, that she had been looking forward to what was about to happen all day.

The last thing Seulgi had to see to before the big event.

Irene.

Many years ago, the two of them had gotten into the pleasurable habit of having sex before any murder took place; a ritual of the flesh, just for Seulgi and Irene. A killing without it was no killing at all.

“Are you ready?” Irene asked coolly.

“Of course I am,” Seulgi replied, bowing her head once more, partially to hide the blush searing on her cheeks.

“Show me.”

Seulgi’s tongue darted across her lips as she rose off of the floor. She hastily bunched the hem of her dress in both hands and lifted it upward, exposing herself to Irene. She knew better than to enter Irene’s room with underwear on, so there she stood, her red thigh-high stockings being the only clothing on her lower half.

Irene leaned back in her seat, staring at Seulgi’s crotch with an amused glint to her gaze.

“You’re already wet?” Irene asked with a chuckle. “You’re a good girl, Seulgi.”

Seulgi flushed at the unexpected praise, letting a small noise of surprise slip from her lips.

“Always,” Seulgi said, her voice already trembling, “always for you.”

“I know.”

Irene reached out to touch Seulgi’s slit from where she sat, running her fingertips along the length of it with a touch so gentle it bordered on cruel. Seulgi worried at her bottom lip with her teeth to stop herself from jolting at the soft contact, to ensure she didn’t rock forward against Irene’s fingers when things had only just begun.

Irene pulled her hand away, observing her slick fingers in the light of the lantern at her side – Seulgi’s wetness was plain as day against them. She brought her fingertips up to her mouth and began to lick them clean, for the sole purpose of watching Seulgi squirm.

And squirm she did. She shifted restlessly in place, still obediently holding the material of her dress up to accommodate Irene’s teasing. She so desperately wanted to be touched by Irene; to touch Irene herself, anything that involved having their hands on each other; but she knew better than to _ask_ for such a thing. Irene’s whims were what charted the course of their ritual, and that was the way it always was.

Irene looked up at Seulgi with a powerful leer, then, as if she could tell that Seulgi was already growing impatient. The look in her eye sent electrifying shivers of want down Seulgi’s spine; to be so much as looked at by Irene was a feeling beyond description.

Irene finally stood from her seat and draped her arms around Seulgi’s shoulders; a familiar motion she had carried out hundreds of times before. Seulgi’s trembling hands let go of the vicegrip they had on the hem of her dress and rested against Irene’s hips, awaiting her leader’s next move with baited breath.

With no word of warning, Irene claimed Seulgi’s lips with a kiss.

Whenever Irene kissed Seulgi in times like these, it was _always_ a kiss of possession; a kiss to say that Seulgi was her property, and the fact that Seulgi so desperately craved those possessive brushes against her lips was proof that she _was_ just that.

Hers.

Seulgi gasped against Irene’s soft lips, melting against them in an instant. Their lips brushed against the others with an intense heat, and Irene wasted little time before gently sinking her teeth against Seulgi’s bottom lip.

“Irene…” Seulgi mumbled breathlessly, inhaling dizzily to catch the breath Irene had stolen away from her. Her mind was overcome with a lust-fuelled haze, unable to think of anything other than Irene’s lips, Irene’s touch, Irene’s next command.

_Irene. Irene. Irene. Irene…!_

Irene said nothing in response, instead opting to deepen their kiss further, slipping her tongue against Seulgi’s own in one smooth motion. Seulgi ached to run her fingers through Irene’s hair while they kissed, but she knew better than to do such a thing without permission.

Seulgi fell back suddenly, her back hitting the soft mattress with a quiet thud. She let out a small noise of surprise when she felt Irene’s weight on top of her; Irene had been steadily steering her in the direction of the bed with her hands on her shoulders while they kissed, but so lost was Seulgi in the heat of the moment, she hadn’t paid it much mind.

Seulgi stared up at the woman on top of her through half-lidded eyes, and Irene looked down at her with a smug smirk, running her thumb along Seulgi’s bottom lip. Seulgi planted a small kiss against the tip of Irene’s thumb, and Seulgi could have sworn she heard Irene’s breath catch in her throat.

The only sources of sound in the room were the clock that hung on the wall ticking the seconds away, and Seulgi’s laboured breathing and soft moaning beneath Irene’s ministrations. She kissed her way along Seulgi’s neck, the tender press of her lips making Seulgi delirious with want and sheer adoration for her.

For Irene. _Her_ Irene.

They loved each other. Granted, it was a twisted love; one born of depravity, hedonism and manslaughter, one that deepened with each destructive swing of a knife, but a love all the same. Seulgi wouldn’t have it any other way, and though Irene was a woman of few words, she knew she felt the very same.

Irene spoke into the silence, and Seulgi’s heart leapt.

“Will you kill for me, Seulgi?”

“Yes,” Seulgi breathed without a moment’s hesitation, and Irene kissed at her ear.

“Will you do anything I ask of you, Seulgi?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” she stammered.

“Then… will you do this for me?”

Irene shuffled her way up the bed until she was hovering above Seulgi’s neck. Immediately clueing into what Irene was hinting at, Seulgi moaned out of sheer excitement and brought her hands up to Irene’s hips to hold her steady.

Irene smiled sweetly at Seulgi, then, and pushed a few strands of hair away from Seulgi’s face, her hand lingering on her searing hot cheek.

“You’re so pretty, Seulgi. You really are my favourite.”

_Irene is smiling. She’s smiling at me!_

Irene settled into place, carefully placing a knee at either side of Seulgi’s head, and gripped at the bed’s antique headboard to steady herself. The anticipation was making Seulgi’s entire body heat up; it wasn’t often that Irene allowed Seulgi to see to her in such a way. Usually, Seulgi was the one being touched.

Finally, Irene lowered herself downward, and Seulgi felt the satisfying sensation of Irene’s body weight resting ever so slightly on her chin.

Irene sighed with a quiet satisfaction as her pussy made contact with Seulgi’s eager lips. Seulgi made a muffled sound of approval, relishing the fact that she could _taste_ just how wet Irene had gotten. Seulgi wondered what did it to her the very most – was it the sight of Seulgi’s own acts of submission, or perhaps knowing that this ritual would be played out before the murder, and she had been looking forward to it all day?

Tightening her firm grip on Irene’s hips, Seulgi did what was asked of her with fervour, and she began to feverishly making her way up Irene’s slit with her tongue; slowing to a stop once she reached her clit. She gave Irene’s most sensitive spot the attention it so desperately needed, licking with slow, careful strokes of her tongue before wrapping her lips around it properly. Seulgi began to suck at Irene’s clit, with just the right amount of force behind the motion to make Irene’s body quiver on top of her – not too hard, but not too softly, either.

Irene was typically a woman of few words, and that demeanour carried over to the bedroom. She made very few vocal noises while she was being touched, and so Seulgi had to rely on the natural responses of her body to ensure she was doing a good job. As long as she continued being able to hear her breath becoming more ragged, and feeling her lips steadily growing wetter as Irene got more into the moment; the intense way Irene rolled her hips against Seulgi’s mouth growing more erratic as time went on was only something that served to further Seulgi’s dedication.

They were all sensations that neither of them could get enough of.

Quiet moans steadily began to fill the room; sounds so low and soft that Seulgi wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she had imagined them. Sure enough, the rare sound of Irene’s voice dripping with lust was very real. It was sweet and tinged with a brazen need, and it blessed Seulgi’s ears as she continued to apply suction to her Irene’s sensitive clit. Her own arousal was building to a breaking point, her mind utterly devoid of any thoughts other than making Irene feel good as the ache between her legs worsened and worsened.

Irene’s hold on the headboard tightened, and the bed’s aging frame squeaked in time with every thrust of her hips against Seulgi’s tongue. She made no effort to slow the rolling of her hips, and enjoyed her lover’s mouth without shame. Her thighs began to tremble around Seulgi’s head, and Seulgi couldn’t help but moan against her slit, the sensation sending shocks of desire through Irene’s entire body.

Irene’s orgasms tended to be very subdued acts, and this one was no different. With no word of warning, her frantic hips juddered to a sudden stop as every muscle in her body tense. Her thighs squeezed themselves around Seulgi’s head of their own accord as Irene leaned forward, pressing more of her weight against Seulgi’s shoulders and face. She moaned – a moan much louder than her usual, but nowhere near a scream – as she rode out the wave of pleasure that had shuddered through her body.

Seulgi made a stifled noise of amazement against Irene’s pussy as her cum made even more of a mess of Seulgi’s mouth. Seulgi could hardly contain herself, the haze of lust in her mind repeating Irene’s name like a mantra. How _desperately_ she wanted to be completely and utterly destroyed by Irene, to be fucked until she couldn’t keep her eyes open a moment longer, to completely and utterly give herself up to her beloved leader.

Irene lifted herself off of Seulgi’s lips with a thoroughly satisfied exhale, a thin trail of her wetness dripping onto Seulgi’s chin. She struggled to keep herself stable as she manoeuvred herself to lay at Seulgi’s side, and flopping onto the bed with shaking breaths and trembling limbs. Every single one of Seulgi’s senses was buzzing, and she laid in place, hardly able to get her head around the fact that she was blessed enough to have the honour of making Irene cum.

A sudden knocking at Irene’s door startled Seulgi into sitting upright, hastily wiping her lips on the back of her hand, while Irene didn’t do so much as flinch.

“What is it?” Irene called.

“Pardon the interruption. I’ve found a target for us,” said Wendy from the other side of the door. “We can move out whenever you’re ready, Lady Irene.”

“Make the call now,” commanded Irene. “We’ll be down shortly.”

“Understood.”

Seulgi bit her own tongue to forcibly stop the whine that was rising in her throat; the ache between her legs had worsened to a roar that would be impossible to ignore, and now she would have to wait until the latest pizza delivery person was culled to be seen to by Irene. She let out a frustrated grunt, and Irene looked at her with a trace of a smile playing on her lips.

“There’s always later, Seulgi.”

“I know, but…”

Irene kissed Seulgi’s lips then, coyly licking traces of her own wetness off of them inbetween brushes of their lips. The fire that had been stoked in Seulgi’s core flared to a hazardous degree, and without thinking anything of it, she placed her hands on Irene’s shoulders needily, hoping with every fibre of her being that her leader would do something – anything – about her desperate need to be touched.

What she got, however, was Irene plucking her hands off of her shoulders with a dark chuckle.

“There is still much work to be done tonight. Once it is finished, we shall celebrate in the way I know you want to.”

Seulgi exhaled from her nostrils in utter frustration, but nodded her head all the same. As much as it pained her to have to hold off, she knew Irene was right. Irene was _always_ right. She knew everything.

“…Yes, ma’am.”

Irene climbed off the bed, taking a brief moment to clean herself up before swinging the door to her room open. She took a step out of the door frame, and Seulgi wondered if she had imagined her chuckling or not.

“Fetch me my favourite razor. Take no longer than three minutes.”

“Yes, Lady Irene.”

The night was still young; and perhaps, if Seulgi could off this latest target quickly, quicker than anyone else could hope to get to it, she would be able to spend even more time beneath her favourite person.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again seulrene nation! i really felt an itch to write a follow-up to the first chapter of this story, so i did just that! i don't think i'll write a third chapter or anything though haha, but who knows!! writing in this kind of setting is a lot of fun for me! i'd like to do something relating to psycho one of these days too...
> 
> just a small note of warning that they actually DO murder somebody in this one, but i tried to make sure the actual murder wasn't explicit but jsyk!! anyways, i really hope you like it!

The delivery man had been scurrying up and down the halls of the mansion for a good twenty minutes now.

It was rare for them to last so long. Seulgi was _almost_ impressed.

The sound of girlish giggling and guttural screaming cracked through the usual stillness of the house. Wendy and Yeri were always the most playful with their pray, in a manner not unlike a cat light-heartedly pawing at a half-dead rodent. With how all of the girls had been wandering these hallowed halls of wickedness for so many years now, the macabre nature of their games had been completely lost on them; for what _is_ sin to a sinner, other than daily routine?

Such orthodox concepts of “right” and “wrong” fall on willingly deaf ears, and the five of them wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wendy and Yeri continue to jovially wave their butcher’s knives about like they were mere playthings, laughing and squealing in delight all the while, and striking a primal fear into the weak-hearted boy they trapped in their twisted maze of a mansion.

When it came to the sport of hunting, Seulgi preferred to watch and wait in silence, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce from the shadows and claim the kill. The sheer satisfaction of watching the last flickers of hopefulness fade from their eyes as her knife drew closer to their vitals was something that endlessly amused her… at least, that was typically the case.

Most days, she was as exhilarated as anyone else to indulge in the animalistic thrill of the hunt, but tonight, more than anything else, she wanted to get back to Irene sooner rather than later.

The ache between her legs hadn’t subsided. When it came to Irene, it never did.

The targets would _always_ run headfirst into their dining room, without fail, desperately looking for a moment of reprieve. The doors leading into the room were towering, with elaborately carved golden handles, and a lone, strategically placed candle perched on a small table nearby to illuminate the way toward it. The sight was like a beacon of hope for those who feared for their lives to their very core; surely, a room with a door so large and important looking would have a thousand different places to hide. The particularly stupid ones even hoped there would be an exit beyond the door’s threshold.

Seulgi was perched atop the dining room’s opulent ornamental chandelier, poised and at the ready to strike, holding the blade of her trusty knife flat between her teeth. She expertly balanced her feet on the chandelier’s base, and the dangling crystal adornments chimed cheerfully with even the smallest movements she made.

The frantic pounding of shoes against hardwood steadily grew louder, and louder still; they were leading the hapless rat right into the lion’s den.

“Ahaha!” Wendy jeered. “Look at him _run_!”

Yeri laughed mockingly.

“How scared he must be, how _scaaaaared_!”

Like clockwork, the double doors flew open with an air rending smack, and in scrambled the delivery man. Judging by the pitter patter of two different pairs of feet making their way toward the dining hall, Wendy and Yeri were trailing behind him _just_ enough to give Seulgi time to put this unfortunate soul out of his misery.

The delivery man was breathing heavily through a pathetic stream of tears, whipping his head this way and that; now clinging to the last flickers of a naïve hope that he would find momentary sanctuary in this room.

The serene sound of crystal clinking against crystal caught his attention, and he tilted his head in the direction of the noise – upward – just in time to see the sight of Seulgi vigorously launching herself off of the chandelier. The gentle jingling became a forceful, dissonant torrent of sound from the motion, and in a lightning-fast streak of red, Seulgi removed the knife from between her teeth with a flashy flick of her wrist.

She then plummeted downward, landing in a feral crouching position atop the long dinner table; a thunderous crack of splintering wood rang through the air as the oaken table braced the impact of her fall, and the flowing hem of her red dress fluttered daintily around her, tenderly settling against the tabletop.

Seulgi rose to her feet, towering above the man thanks to the added height of the table. The man screamed shrilly at the sight of the murderous scarlet storm before him, tripping over his own feet and toppling backward with a choked sob. The plush red carpet cushioned his fall, and he urgently felt around behind him for anything he could use as a weapon.

Of course, no beacons of hope would be left lying around so carelessly. The girls of the mansion were much too organized to make such a foolish blunder.

Though he didn’t speak a word of Korean, Seulgi understood his mad babbling with little trouble. It was clear that he was desperately begging for his life to be spared.

They really _were_ all the same.

With an annoyed click of her tongue, Seulgi hopped off the table, and took slow, purposeful steps toward him. He was petrified with fear and watched her every move with tears streaming down his face. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Wendy and Yeri stood silently in the door’s frame, watching Seulgi’s every move with a quiet anticipation building with every tick of the clock.

“It’s no fun when you resort to begging so quickly,” Seulgi lectured calmly, leaning down next to her prey. “Remember that in your next life.”

With a final slash of her knife and a blood curdling scream from the victim, his life ended with an unceremonious whimper.

Seulgi rolled the body over with a kick of her foot to stop the fountain of blood gushing from his neck from spraying everywhere; and the carpet beneath the carcass was being dyed a deeper, grimier shade of red than before.

Wendy and Yeri ran in to crowd around Seulgi, whooping and cheering like hooligans around the stoic woman.

“Seulgi, that was _brilliant_! Like something out of a movie!” Yeri exclaimed, thoroughly impressed.

Wendy wolf-whistled at Seugi’s handiwork, running her fingertip along the fresh crack in their dinner table.

“Glad we let you have the last shot. You don’t get to see a spectacle like _that_ every day!”

“Thank you,” Seulgi said plainly. “You flatter me.”

“And rightfully so,” came a third voice from the hallway.

Seulgi didn’t have to turn her head to see the source of it. The way her heart writhed and twisted to a stop the instant the angelic sound met her ears told her exactly who it was.

_Irene_.

Their fearless leader had her arms crossed across her chest, looking thoroughly pleased with the three girls before her as she entered the room. The three of them dropped to one knee in near perfect sync, keeping their eyes firmly on the floor until Irene moved past them.

Every step she took exuded _power_. Irene was a woman whose beguiling presence inspired wild, vicious chaos, and a devotion so deep it bordered on religious worship in the hearts of those around her.

Each successful culling only deepened the intensity of those feelings. She was a woman who could make the devil itself jealous of her ability to seduce women to her way of thinking; to lead lost lambs onto a path of wanton slaughter as if it were their only option in life.

With a powerful shiver running up her spine, Seulgi briefly pondered how she got so _lucky_. Lucky enough to be in the presence of someone so remarkable, and for that remarkable someone to acknowledge her insignificant existence…

“Raise your heads. You’ve all done well.”

Seulgi did as she was told; and was blessed with one of her favourite sights.

Irene staring down at her.

The subtle sneer on Irene’s lips was a sly one – such a look sent an intense heat coursing through Seulgi’s veins. Surely, she knew just how Seulgi was feeling, how desperate she was to claim the reward that was promised to her earlier in the evening…

As though she could read Seulgi’s depraved mind, Irene turned her gaze away with an air of nonchalance as she began to walk once more, and the blasé nature of the motion only made the ache between Seulgi’s legs intensify. In an attempt to quell the fire of arousal burning away at her core, Seulgi squeezed one of her hands into a shaky fist; digging her fingernails into her own palm with a ferocity that threatened to break the skin.

“We shall have a feast to celebrate another successful kill. Tomorrow,” Irene decreed, clasping her hands behind her back. “I will leave it to you all to make the preparations. Until then, you are free to do as you please.”

Wendy and Yeri looked at each other with an enthusiastic twinkle in their eyes, wordlessly expressing their excitement to one another. The three of them stood from their kneeling positions, bowing deeply at the waist in thanks to their leader before seeing themselves out of the room.

A hand creeping its way onto her shoulder stopped Seulgi mid-step.

Irene slid up to her favourite, her chest brushing against Seulgi’s back as she leaned over her shoulder. The warm press of Irene’s body against Seulgi’s own made her mind go utterly blank, and the hot whisper against her ear intensified that tenfold.

“Stay in here for a few minutes,” her dulcet tones murmured. “I’ll be along once I congratulate Joy.”

Seulgi inhaled sharply.

“…Yes, Lady Irene.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

Seulgi took a careful seat at the dining room table, the excitement mounting by the second. She had to forcibly cross her legs to quell the ache between them, and turned her distractible gaze toward a stack of books strewn about the table to keep her mind off of impure thoughts until Irene returned.

Irene was a well-read woman, and could often be found ingesting all sorts of different books in her spare time. Her preferred spot to read was the recliner in her room, but she was known to do it in any room that was quiet on occasion.

Another one of Seulgi’s most favourite sights was to simply _observe_ Irene getting absorbed in whatever she was reading that day; she would often sit obediently on the floor of Irene’s room, next to her leader’s legs as she was perched atop her recliner. Seulgi’s head would lean against Irene’s knee, and Irene’s deft fingers would idly run through Seulgi’s hair as her eyes scanned the pages.

Though the action was something that would seem chaste to most, it never felt that way to Seulgi. The sensation of Irene’s hands being on her in _any_ capacity at all sent her mind into a tizzy of wants and needs. And such a small motion was, in itself, a declaration of power. A statement that Seulgi was not unlike a pet to Irene; Seulgi was little more than her obedient property. The palpable tension mounting in the air always served as a stark contrast to the calm sound of pages gently being turned in the silence.

With an exhale, Seulgi picked up one of the books on the table. There was one that detailed the gruesome process of decomposition of the human body, one to do with proper grave digging etiquette, and three antique editions of novels written in English. While Seulgi contemplated what the foreign novels could have been about as she flipped through them, the door re-opened with a quiet swing.

The sight of Irene’s silhouette ghosting into the doorframe of the hazily lit room made Seulgi’s eager heart leap into her throat, and she straightened her posture against the back of the chair she was sat on.

“Come into the hallway,” Irene said. Her voice was quiet, but _authoritative_ , and Seulgi couldn’t rise from her seat fast enough.

Once Seulgi set foot into the hallway, Irene stepped behind her, and wasted no time with putting her hands on Seulgi’s shoulders. Seulgi swallowed to alleviate the dizziness that was washing over her consciousness from what was about to transpire; did Irene truly intend to give her her reward in the _hall_?

It was unlikely they would even see Wendy, Joy or Yeri again tonight, but who’s to say they wouldn’t wander down this hall on some arbitrary whim?

The thought shot sparks up Seulgi’s spine, and she squirmed.

“L-Lady Irene… _here_?”

Irene was as observant as ever; her eyes scanned Seulgi’s features with a glint of amusement in her gaze. She took in every subtle shudder and demure aversion of Seulgi’s eyes that would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, and relished them all.

“Is that a problem?” Irene asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

“ _No_. No, not at all,” Seulgi replied quickly.

“Good.”

Without a word more, Irene began to undo the zipper on the back of Seulgi’s dress with a slow, intentional deliberateness, and Seulgi could feel the piercing stare on her back as her shoulders rose and fell in time with her excitable breathing. Her leader slipped the dress off of Seulgi’s shoulders with a gentle touch, and they mutually watched the fabric pool around her feet, onto the floor of the open hallway. Seulgi would have mistaken it for a surprisingly intimate gesture, had she not known all too well that Irene meant it in a teasing manner.

To make her wait like this was an excruciating pleasure, but a pleasure all the same.

Seulgi stood naked in front of Irene, save for the same red stockings she wore earlier in the day, and a red ribbon tied around her neck. The ribbon was a simple, smooth piece of fabric; it was a gift given to her by _Irene_ , so she never took it off, treating it as a makeshift collar. She felt no sense of shame or worry; rather, her excitement only continued to grow with each moment that passed.

Irene began to gently push Seulgi backward, step by step, until her back was being pressed against the cool wall behind her, pinning her to it. Irene boldly pressed her body up against Seulgi’s, and Seulgi’s breath hitched in her throat upon feeling the warmth of her beloved in such close quarters; their bodies always melted together so perfectly, as though one were made for the other.

As though Seulgi was made just for Irene.

To be in Irene’s presence in any capacity was a privilege; to have Irene breathing against her neck was an honour beyond words.

Irene splayed one hand next to Seulgi’s head to steady herself, and rested her other hand on her bare thigh. She began to feel along Seulgi’s leg with bold strokes, and Seulgi let her legs lull further apart to accommodate her leader’s whims. Every graze of her palm was harder than the last, steadily making its way upward, until Irene dug her nails into the sensitive flesh with a possessive grab; just hard enough to make Seulgi jolt in equal parts surprise and arousal.

When Irene spoke in a hushed, throaty tone, Seulgi hung onto every word as though it were gospel.

“…You kill so beautifully, Seulgi. You always have.”

Irene’s words dripped like honey, and Seulgi trembled.

“Ma’am… I don’t know what to say…”

“I’m proud,” Irene continued, punctuating the pride she held for her Seulgi with another hungry squeeze against her inner thigh. “Proud to be able to say that such an impressive woman belongs to me.”

The praise made Seulgi’s ears burn with satisfaction. Surely, she was unworthy to have such words showered upon her, to be touched by someone who was a queen to her – who was her world. She felt a feverish heat beginning to race up her skin, and that warmth settled in her cheeks, on her forehead, against her neck… every part of her was desperately burning to feel Irene pressed up against her even _more_.

She resisted…but only _just_.

For a moment, Irene did nothing but _stare_ , and yet, Seulgi still fidgeted needily beneath her; under the scrutinizing eye of _her_ Irene, every sensation was amplified to an unhealthy degree. She ached terribly, her desire mounting more as the seconds ticked by. 

Irene slipped her fingers beneath the ribbon around Seulgi’s neck as she planted small kisses against her chin. Seulgi felt the skin that Irene’s lips and fingers danced against heating up terribly in the wake of her touch, and she let her head lull back against the wall, the familiar sting of overwhelming lust overtaking her mind as she savoured the sensations that came with Irene.

Irene untied the ribbon, removing it in one fluid motion, and only _then_ did Seulgi feel a strange sense of nakedness without it. She never took it off; after all, it was a bright red symbol of who owned her very being. She pulled herself out of the intoxicating daze that had engulfed her, looking at Irene curiously.

Irene took a step back, smirking at her favourite as she toyed with the ribbon between her fingers. She grabbed Seulgi by the wrists, holding her hands together with one hand, and wrapping the ribbon around her wrists with the other.

Seulgi finally registered what was her beloved leader was angling for, and let a husky moan slip from her lips as Irene tied the ribbon around her wrists with a firm tug. Seulgi privately tested the strength of the ribbon, and surmised that she could have easily broken out of the makeshift bindings with little effort… but she wouldn’t even entertain such a thought.

Irene wanting her like _this_ was a dream come true. To relinquish control so completely, to someone she adored so dearly… what could be better?

“Th-thank you, Lady Irene,” she mumbled feverishly as Irene pinned her restrained hands above her head. “Oh, thank you…”

Irene said nothing in response, trailing firm, heated kisses up and down Seulgi’s bare neck. Seulgi fidgeted with every hot brush of her lips; she could _feel_ that Irene’s bright red lipstick was leaving marks across Seulgi’s pretty pale skin, and she desperately wanted to see the sight for herself; to forever burn the sight of such gorgeous markings in her memory forevermore.

Irene shifted her body to press a thigh between Seulgi’s legs, and Seulgi moaned breathily at the sudden, welcome contact against her most sensitive area; this is what she had been dying for all night. She let her hips roll against Irene’s thigh without shame, enjoying just how thoroughly she was covered in Irene. In her lips, in her hands, against her thigh… she wanted it all, and so much more.

Seulgi obediently kept her hands above her head as Irene continued to take her fill of feeling Seulgi’s body, her hips not stopping their rocking for anything. Her every nerve screamed for her to grab needily at Irene, to run her hands along Irene’s back while she felt around, to utterly lose herself to the touch of her leader.

“Ah… Lady Irene…!”

Irene briefly slipped her fingertips against Seulgi’s wet slit, chuckling low against her neck, and the sensation made Seulgi’s head spin with a delirious lust.

“You’re a good girl, Seulgi. _My_ good girl. Let me give you what you crave.”

Irene captured Seulgi’s lips then; kissing at them with a sense of intense greed that made them both shiver with pleasure. Though Irene was a perfect picture of stoicism, she privately drank the devotion and obsession Seulgi held her in with an eagerness she wouldn’t let anyone else see. The feeling of being so thoroughly worshipped made her ego swell, her sense of self soar above all else, and her body ache with a selfish want all its own.

Indeed, it was a strange love they shared, but one both couldn’t be without.

Seulgi couldn’t stop herself from letting small moans and grunts slip out against Irene’s hot lips while they kissed; she had been aching for this all day, and now, she was finally, _finally_ getting her reward.

Seulgi’s lower abdomen stiffened when Irene slipped her fingers inside of her favourite; she let out a breathy moan as Irene began to fuck her, and tightened her hands into fists, desperate to cling to her leader with all that she had.

Irene fucked Seulgi with an intense force behind every slip of her fingers, because she knew that was how she liked it; hard, fast, and all-encompassing. Seulgi let her eyes shut in delight, relishing the sensations of Irene putting her all into fucking her senseless.

Feeling Irene’s body heat up against her own, her ragged breath in her ear as she picked up the pace even further… there was no greater pleasure. Seulgi grew wetter with every movement of her wrist, and that only served to spur her on even more.

Irene grunted as she pushed herself to her limits, her arm burning pleasantly from fucking her Seulgi at such a rough, steady pace. Seulgi mumbled her name repeatedly in a delirious ecstasy, like it was a mantra, filling the silent hallway with feverish whispers of want.

Irene fiercely pressed her forehead against Seulgi’s, then, and glowered into her eyes.

“Tell me who you belong to, Seulgi.”

The simple question turned Seulgi on beyond any sense of comprehension. She studied Irene’s handsome features as she struggled to speak over the heady arousal consuming all of her senses.

“Of course it’s you, Lady Irene…” she stammered in ecstasy. “I belong to you.”

“That’s right. You’re mine,” Irene hissed, “Mine, and mine alone.”

“Ah… Lady Irene, harder…!”

Seulgi gasped sharply; her request was cut short as Irene had suddenly wrapped her free hand around her neck.

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” Irene said icily. Despite her words, she obliged Seulgi’s plea; and began to fuck her lover vigorously with one last burst of force.

That was what it took for her to finish – and she finished with a _scream_. Seulgi hastily brought her bound hands up to her mouth to stifle her own moaning, the muffled remnants of which echoed through the empty hallway. Irene pressed her body tightly against Seulgi’s own, privately enjoying every last shake and shudder than ran through her lithe body as she rode out her orgasm.

“…Thank you, Lady Irene…” Seulgi breathed, utterly enamoured with the woman in front of her. Irene tilted Seulgi’s chin upwards, meeting her heart-filled gaze with her own powerful one, and Seulgi held her breath in anticipation.

“The door to my room is unlocked,” Irene said, with a voice nary above a whisper as she let her tongue lick along Seulgi’s bottom lip lightly. “Get dressed and make your way there. I’m not finished with you just yet.”

“A-ah… of course, ma’am. Anything for you.”

With a chuckle, Irene pulled away from Seulgi’s lips, and began to walk down the hall. Suddenly remembering where they were, Seulgi hurriedly got dressed once more, taking extra care to tie the red ribbon around her neck just right.

She let her fingertips rest against the fabric with a smitten sigh.

With a life and love just like this; it made her wonder…how _did_ she get so lucky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [follow my gay ass on twitter](https://twitter.com/theyuriunnie) where i act a fool and gush about girl groups, let's be friends! thanks so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed it!! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg HI SEULRENE NATION!! it has been a hot minute since i last wrote something for seulrene and that's just not right! they're one of my favourite pairings of all, and i missed writing them in such weird situations akjhkdfg so i might update it again in the future if i feel like it, or enough people want it! i think i said in the last chapter that i wouldn't update this story again, but as it turns out that was a lie!!!! seulrene subunit really made me want to return to this concept, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i love you guys and i hope you like it!! ♥♥♥

The mansion was abuzz with a more innocent sense of excitement the day following a killing. The times bookending the hunt – as well as the kill itself, of course – were always filled with jovial celebration in the form of parties and lavish feasts. The celebrations would often involve the five women preparing mountains of mouth watering food and drinking 'til the wee hours of the morning, laughing and reminiscing about moments of glory gone by.

During such merriment, Seulgi feels, more than any other occasion, that the mansion was the one place in this world that she truly belonged. Her crimson-clad sisters were her people; who else on this earth had such depraved, gruesome ideas of fun? Such deplorable ideologies, such an unhinged thirst for malice that was never quenched? Such a fact made her ever so happy, albeit privately.

Leaving the manor and venturing into the outside world was seldom done. Once a month, one of the girls would be chosen to accompany Irene to restock their food, emergency supplies, and other such necessities in the nearby city. Seulgi would kneel at her bedside and clasp her trembling hands together, offering frenzied whispers of prayer to her own private God before every outing would take place, wishing with every ounce of her being that it would be her turn to accompany Lady Irene this time around.

The outing came with a myriad of unique experiences she could not have otherwise. Seeing Irene in casual clothing was a rare treat in and of itself. She also found private bliss in watching Irene interact with normal, every day people with a proud and commanding countenance that sent perverted shivers of delight down Seulgi's spine to watch... truly, it was always a day filled with elation.

Today's celebratory feast happened to coincide with the manor's designated supply day.

Seulgi carefully studied herself as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room. She had slipped into casual, unassuming clothing to easier assimilate into the outside world in the hopes that she would be the one chosen to accompany the woman she adored so intensely. It felt utterly unnatural to be devoid of her flowing red robes, so even when she had to do away with them, she took care to never go without the red ribbon around her neck. It served as the perfect visual tell, letting the whole world know just who it was she belonged to in mind, body, and soul.

She stretched her arms out in front of the mirror, looking on with an unsure squint of her eyes; the long-sleeved blue top she chose to wear was beginning to look a tad on the well-worn side, with the hem of the garment fraying at the seams, and small, inconsequential holes peppered along it. Of all of the outside wear Seulgi owned, the top was her favourite of all; it was the first piece of clothing Irene presented to her as a gift.

“I thought that the colour would look nice on you,” she had said so nonchalantly, and Seulgi immediately felt faint from the knowledge that Irene had bothered to spare even a passing thought for her. Whenever she wore the garb once more, the intoxicating feeling of her Lady's casual praise came rushing back like a powerful gust of wind, causing her knees to grow weak and her head to spin with a pleasant wash of need.

A soft, sudden knock on her door pulled her out of her daze.

She cast a hesitant glance toward it, knowing immediately that it wasn't Lady Irene on the other side. The knock was all wrong. It wasn't nearly loud or firm enough.

Her intuition was spot on. Rather than Lady Irene, there stood her fellow housemate, Joy, wearing the artful grin she was rarely seen without.

Seulgi got along with the rambunctious duo of Yeri and Wendy to a surprising degree. The two of them were honest to a fault, always jovial and completely true to their feelings, living life with a “come what may” attitude that Seulgi found herself envying somewhat. They were easy to be around.

But Joy was more of an enigma to Seulgi. An individual shrouded in a thick fog of perplexity that she couldn't even begin to decipher.

Joy was the third girl to join Irene's ranks, after Seulgi and Wendy, and right before Yeri. She was a woman who hid her true intentions behind a heart stopping smile and words dripping with empty promises. Sly as a fox, Joy was a cunning tactician; an expert at setting traps in the house, often snaring their unsuspecting prey with one of her bizarre concoctions, ensuring their death would be swift and enjoyable for any onlookers.

Though she did not hate her by any means, Seulgi always put up fortress-sized walls around Joy; she refused to show even a hint of weakness in front of the woman, privately fearing what she may do with such information, despite having no rhyme or reason to do anything malicious to her. Seulgi knew that, should she ever be pitted against Joy in combat, she could easily overpower her in physical strength... but she was as good as dead in a battle of wits and trickery.

“Hiiii, Seulgi!” said Joy, offering her a small wave.

It was undeniable that she was shockingly beautiful, if nothing else. Even Seulgi, who scarcely spared a passing thought to anyone who wasn't Lady Irene, could not deny such a thing. Her long hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, and she wore a pretty black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places as her choice of today's outside attire.

A flicker of a thought passed through Seulgi's mind, and she briefly wondered if, perhaps, Lady Irene had chosen such a brazen outfit for Joy as well...

Seulgi's nostrils flared as an unexpected spike of jealousy shot up her back.

Quashing such feelings for the time being, she composed herself once more, smiling weakly at the woman stood in front of her.

“Hello, Joy.”

Joy tapped her chin with a low, mischievous hum, leaning closer to her fellow housemate. Though she projected an air of concern about her, the Cheshire cat-like grin that spread across her pretty face betrayed her true intentions.

“ _Goodness_ , you look awfully pale. Are you feeling alright?”

“I'm fine,” Seulgi replied quickly, leaning back to put space between the two of them. “Just a bit tired, that's all.”

“I can imagine,” Joy winked slyly at her comrade. “Busy night, was it?”

A dismissive sound rose from the back of Seulgi's throat, despite struggling to meet Joy's eyes as flashes of the night before played on her mind. After all, she had been wrapped up in Irene until the early morning; an event she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

Joy continued, her grin only growing more smug by the moment.

“ _Anyway_... I just stopped by to tell you that Lady Irene has _specifically_ requested that _I_ help her with the supply run this month,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Unable to mask the disappointment that had swept over her so abruptly, Seulgi's face fell at the woman's words.

“ _What_?” Seulgi asked, in a mixture of disbelief and thinly-veiled disgust. “But – but why has she requested _you?_ ”

“She said she's too tired to drive herself, so the task falls to me,” Joy drawled, taking a sudden interest in her nails. “It really _must_ have been an awfully busy night for you both.”

Seulgi balled her hands up into fists at her side, unsure of how to act as her freshly dashed hopes seeped their way into her bones. Besides Lady Irene, Joy _was_ the only one in the house who could drive, so it made logical sense that the leader would forgo the tradition of picking who would accompany her for the sake of her comfort...

But logic doesn't always equate to emotional relief.

“B-But...”

A third voice interjected into the conversation.

“Why in the world are you dilly-dallying, Joy? You know better than to keep me waiting.”

Irene came into view suddenly, taking a proud step behind Joy that sent shockwaves through Seulgi's world. Seulgi's breath hitched pitiably in her throat as she drank up the stunning sight before her.

Their leader was wearing a beautiful outfit; rather than her usual red dress, she sported a bright red blazer, with the trousers to match. Though the clothes may have been a bit loud - compared to what most would wear for a casual stroll around town, anyway - the overall ensemble screamed that she was a person of great importance and stature.

Which... it was likely that she _was_ , in some capacity, even outside of the den of sin she had cultivated over the years. Whenever Seulgi had the privilege of accompanying Irene on the monthly supply runs, they would drive all the way out to a well to-do part of town in a lavish convertible. The people there would nervously offer their hello's to her, referring to her by name, and bending over backwards to ensure her experience in their establishments were _more_ than satisfactory. Irene also had a seemingly bottomless bank account, which made Seulgi ever so curious about her life prior to starting this operation.

She daren't ask, though. For enquiring about the private dealings of her mistress would surely be crossing a line that should not be crossed by someone's property.

Irene folded her arms as her piercing gaze tore through Seulgi, who stared back with a slack jaw. She bowed at the waist on instinct, keeping her head low and patiently awaiting permission to rise once more.

It never came. Seulgi kept her eyes glued to the hallway's ruby red carpet for what felt like an age.

“Ah, Lady Irene!” Joy curtseyed at the sight of their leader. “My apologies, ma'am. I was just letting Seulgi know that I am to go with you today.”

Seulgi felt Irene's nonchalant gaze fall on her bent over frame, and suppressed the primal urge to raise her head to meet her leader's eye.

“I see. I don't feel up to driving today, as I'm sure Joy has told you.”

“...I wanted to accompany Lady Irene, though...”

The words left Seulgi's pouting lips before she had even realised she'd said them. Roughly gnawing at her own bottom lip to stop any more unnecessary griping tumbling out from them, Seulgi felt a cold sweat beginning to bead along the back of her neck. Dumbfounded and nervous, she knew that she had stepped out of line. Horrible pangs of envy provoked Seulgi to speak in a way she wouldn't usually _dare_ in Lady Irene's presence, and she cursed herself a thousand times over for such a petty blunder.

Fingertips unexpectedly danced along Seulgi's throat, then, and the sudden sting of Irene's nails dragging upward along the sensitive flesh caused her to shudder pleasurably; she was almost disappointed when Irene's fingertips rested beneath her chin, stopping their onslaught. Seulgi trembled as she stood, tying her hands in knots and biting back shock after shock of arousal as Irene used those fingers to finally tilt her head upward.

Irene did not look pleased.

“You would question _my_ judgment?”

“A-ah, no, of course not, Lady Irene! I-I just... I was--”

“Speaking out of line,” Irene finished for her, her tone as cold as ice. “A doll should know her place, shouldn't she _?_ ”

Without a word more, Irene walked down the hall with a brisk pace, calling for Joy as she went.

“I'm sorry, pet. Try not to be too upset with me, will you?” Joy whispered behind a hand. “You know as well as I do...rules are rules. I'll see you at the feast, Seulgi.”

And, after an abrupt exchange of goodbyes, Seulgi was alone once more.

Letting the creaking door swing shut behind her, Seulgi sat herself on the edge of her bed. Though it was no fault of Joy's own, the wicked, shuddering tendrils of jealousy sprouted from the ground below and coiled up Seulgi's very being, filling her with a selfish sadness that made her feel utterly childish. The scant flicker of the candle in the room illuminated her melancholic frame, causing her shadow to dance in slow, sombre steps against the wall. She gnawed at the tip of her thumb as a feeling of anxiousness crawled up her skin.

There was _nothing_ worse than being away from Lady Irene's side, in her eyes. Nothing at all.

Rather than dwell on emotional duress, Seulgi preferred to keep her mind occupied with killing. It was partially why she began to indulge in the ghastly hobby in the first place, all those years ago. She felt the familiar itch under her skin; an itch she was desperate to scratch, but the only remedy was murder.

 _When was the last time I killed someone for the sake of my own fun?_ Seulgi mused to herself. _Years, probably..._

The manor's front doors were overbearingly large. Crafted from the highest quality oak money could buy, the frame was three times the size of any normal sized human being. They announced every arrival and departure with unsettling creaks and tired groans, meaning it was impossible to miss when they were being opened or shut. The familiar sound of the door shuddering open with a loud, pained wail from its ageing hinges met Seulgi's ears then; they had left.

Quelling her bubbling feelings of disappointment, bloodlust and arousal yet again, Seulgi changed back into her red robes with a heavy sigh. She supposed she could lend Wendy and Yeri a hand with preparations for the feast, at least...

Anything to take her mind off of the possessive imp that had burrowed its way into her mind, tempting her to do horrible things.

A heavy rain lashed away at the mansion outside, sending the soothing sounds of rainfall through the hallowed halls, and Seulgi found it a small comfort amidst her private bout of sulking. She wasn't one for cooking, so she assisted the duo where she felt she could; with scrubbing the ornate sterling silver dining set until it shone, sharpening the silverware, and other menial tasks that needed taking care of. Wendy and Yeri chattered animatedly to one another around her, and while they would include Seulgi in their back and forth as well, it calmed her nerves to simply... listen. Seulgi wasn't much for conversation, but she enjoyed observing, listening, and learning from those around her.

“...Seriously though, I can't use a crossbow to save my life! I dunno how you do it so flawlessly,” Wendy said, smiling wide in Yeri's direction as she heaved the heavy roast out of the oven.

Yeri hummed thoughtfully, slicing and dicing different ingredients with an oversized knife at an alarmingly quick rate.

“I keep telling you, you just need to practice more! You're a pro at throwing hatchets, and it's _basically_ the same idea.”

Wendy wrinkled her nose.

“And _how_ is throwing hatchets the same as firing a crossbow, exactly?”

“Considering the trajectory of a weapon before you make your move... requiring lots of arm strength... that sort of thing,” Seulgi mumbled softly, gazing at her own reflection in the silver platter she was working on.

“Yeah, that's right! Seulgi gets it,” Yeri beamed, pointing in Seulgi's direction. “You've already got the skill to do it, you just have to get used to applying it differently!”

“I dunno... I think I need Crossbow Savant Yeri to teach me how to use one,” Wendy threw her arms around Yeri and squeezed her extra tight while making kissy faces at her. “C'mooon, teach me your secrets!”

Yeri shrieked with merry laugher, trying in vain to wriggle out of Wendy's grasp as she tickled at Yeri's ribs.

“Fine! Fine! Just stooooop! If you tickle me, I'll die for real!”

Even the stoic Seulgi was unable to hold back her chuckling at the playful back-and-forth her two housemates shared.

“Oh! Seulgi's laughing! Should I tickle her harder, Seulgi?!”

“Seulgi, if you say yes, I'll cry! I'll seriously cry!”

“I don't think I should comment, in that case...” Seulgi said, wearing a delicate smile on her face.

The hours ticked by thanks to the busy work and the new, light-hearted atmosphere that permeated in the air; and before they all knew it, the time to start the feast was upon them.

Seulgi aided Wendy in carrying the finished platters of food into the dining hall. The tabletop that had been cracked the night before was strategically hidden beneath an opulent scarlet tablecloth, which was further covered in a veritable buffet of delicious smelling food.

It was during the final leg of preparations that the despairing wail of the front door sounded through the manor once more. The missing members of the house had returned, and the jolly atmosphere immediately shifted into one of quiet admiration and acclaim as they awaited the re-appearance of the most important woman in their world.

Lady Irene was home.

She and Joy entered the dining hall, still in their outside wear, which was now slightly damp from the torrential rains outside; Irene exuding power with every step as she moved forward in silence, and in a similar silence, Joy trotted behind her like the loyal puppy she was. Seulgi, Wendy and Yeri all fell to one knee as they so often did, keeping their heads bowed respectfully in the presence of their leader.

“Please, there is no need for such formalities tonight. This is a celebration, isn't it?” Irene announced, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Let's all be merry.”

Wendy and Yeri hopped to their feet in an instant, welcoming the two of them home with their usual energy springing back like it had never gone. Seulgi rose at her own pace, reluctant to so much as look at Irene in case the unceasing stabs of envy in her heart continued to worsen.

“That's a really nice jacket, Joy! Is it new?”

Yeri's exclamation caused Seulgi's eyes to widen in disbelief; whipping her head around to look at Joy, she saw that the leather jacket she wore around her person was undoubtedly new; an uncut price tag still bounced from the sleeve as Joy modelled it with a chuckle.

“It is. Lady Irene was kind enough to bless me with a new piece of outside wear,” she said proudly. “Isn't it lovely?”

The sly woman cast a cryptic look toward Seulgi, who looked on in utter dejection. Joy was lucky enough to be personally requested by Lady Irene, got to spend the entire day with her doing god knows what, and now she got a new piece of clothing, on top of everything else?

Eyebrows knitting together in frustration and unsure of what to do with herself yet again, Seulgi stared at Irene... who, to her surprise, was staring right back.

Was she smiling...? Smiling at _Seulgi?_

“C'mon, Seulgi! We haven't finished the preparations yet!”

Before Seulgi had time to process the incredible sight she had been blessed with, Wendy had grabbed her hand with a spring in her step, dragging her back into menial tasks.

And so, the three of them spent some time carrying what was left of the food and drinks into the dining hall. Each time Seulgi would exit the kitchen, she would peek up at Irene and Joy from beneath her bangs, stealing greedy eyefuls of Irene in her bright red blazer, her heart beating wildly in her chest more and more with each glance.

The two of them were wandering about the room, waiting for the festivities to begin. Upon each re-entry into the hall, Irene's intense eyes would only meet Seulgi's for the briefest of moments before casually falling back to Joy; an acknowledgement so brusque and insignificant that it made Seulgi's entire being burn needily for more. She wanted to arrest Irene's attention, to drown in the hedonistic overindulgence of being lost in her leader's touch until time itself stopped.

_Lady Irene, why won't you look at me? Look at me, and only me. Just me._

_Acknowledge me._

_...Praise me...._

_Oh, please..._

If Irene was stood at the bookshelf in the room perusing the titles on display, Joy would be standing right next to her, nodding along with every word that left Irene's lips. If they were sat at the table, Joy would have her seat much too close to their leaders for Seulgi's liking, practically hanging off of her. On one re-entry, Seulgi was privy to Joy drying Irene's hair with a towel ever so gently, basking in the attention and praise that was being showered upon her by their leader with a charming blush on her cheeks.

How she _loathed_ it.

Joy got to stay close to Irene. Joy got to listen to her words. Joy got to bask in her presence, while Seulgi did not. The venomous words of spite and jealousy she wanted to impulsively spit were strangled in her throat, threatening to strike when even she least expected it.

But there was _no_ way she could have a repeat of earlier. One small slip-up was enough to make Lady Irene be ever so cold with her... which was a pleasure in its own right, to be sure, but certainly not the ideal. Behaving always reaped better rewards.

The rational part of Seulgi's mind knew that there was no malice intended behind Joy's actions – she was only treating Irene like the goddess she was, as everyone under this roof did every day. It was to be expected, and nothing out of the ordinary. And yet...

Seulgi's grip curled around the cloche she carried with such a frightening grip, its silver lid clattered and shook with fear in her grasp.

_Ah, I want to kill. I want to kill so badly..._

So overtaken by a cacophony of emotions was she, that Seulgi slammed the platter that held the roast atop it right in front of Joy with an aggressive thrust, without consciously meaning to; the dinnerware clanged loudly against the table, causing Joy to jolt in her seat ever so slightly. Seulgi's face was like thunder as she glared down at the floor, unsure of what to do with all of her pent-up anger and jealousy. So much so, in fact, that she hadn't noticed the very object of her affections watching with a disapproving glower.

Taking notice of the fire in Irene's eyes, Seulgi scrambled to bow in apology, mumbling for forgiveness under her breath as she backed out of the dining hall and into the hallway once more.

The clouds of thunder that were brewing over Seulgi's person boomed and crackled with an insatiable anger; unable to keep horrible feelings of inadequacy and jealousy bottled up a moment longer, she began to storm her way down the corridor. _She_ was supposed to be Lady Irene's favourite; to be by her side at all times. No one else.

Her feet thrummed against the hardwood floors with a heavy stomp, each step more combative than the last. She longed for the tactile sensation of a knife's hilt being gripped in one hand, to relish in the sensations that came with murder so desperately, it was making her feel _manic_.

When a hand reached out to grab her by the wrist without warning, Seulgi felt her last twig of patience crack apart with a snap. She aggressively tried to wrench her hand away from the mysterious grip, teeth bared as she growled in sheer anger.

“ _What_?! What is it?!”

…

There was no response.

The longer the silence remained unbroken, the more it dawned on Seulgi that she had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

She didn't dare turn around. Not now. There she stood, shoulders tense and nerves settling in her stomach, waiting for fate to catch up with her irrational anger.

When the hand let go of Seulgi's wrist in favour of grabbing a handful of her hair, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had screwed up big time.

“You goddamned _brat_ ,” Irene spat, roughly grabbing a handful of Seulgi's pretty hair and yanking backward. “You would dare to speak to _me_ like that? It's not like you to be so disobedient, _Seulgi_.”

Though a shock of pain seared through Seulgi's scalp, the unexpected flush of arousal that came with it made her feel as though her knees would give way at any moment; she let out a sharp, girlish gasp as her eyes met those of the woman she was so obsessed with. Still dressed in her blazer from earlier in the day and looking somewhat tussled from having her hair dried, Seulgi wanted nothing more than to unwrap the woman who stood in front of her and keep her all to herself.

“A-ah, Lady Irene, I'm sorry, I really-- I thought you were...”

Seulgi's panic and arousal melted into a bizarre confusion once she saw Irene's expression shift to one of an unpredictable neutrality.

“Do not make a sound until I _tell_ you to from this moment onward. Understood?”

There it was.

An _order_.

A swirl of delirium spiralled through Seulgi, and was reflected in her eyes; already clouding over with the smoky haze of arousal, she silently nodded her head, waiting for whatever Irene had planned for her with baited breath.

Carrying herself with a careful, controlled air as always, Irene loosened her grip on Seulgi's hair and pressed a hand to the small of her back, leading her down the hallway. Seulgi silently marched along as Irene silently commanded her to, completely unsure what to make of the situation. Was she about to be reprimanded...?

They stopped in front of Seulgi's room, and she looked back at Irene hesitantly.

“Open the door for me,” Irene commanded, and naturally, Seulgi obeyed without a second thought.

Taking a cautious step into her dimly lit room, she yelped as she was shoved forward with an assertive show of force from Irene; her front hit the bed before she could work through her own sudden bout of disorientation. Irene wasted no time in draping her body against Seulgi's back, stoking the fire that burned in the pit of Seulgi's stomach to a roaring blaze of an inferno. It was all happening so fast, and the unpredictability of it all made Seulgi want to moan aloud in anticipation.

But she was not allowed to. It was an order, after all.

Irene slowly kissed her way up her property's neck; trailing feather light kisses along it ever so slowly, until she had made her way to Seulgi's ear.

“You've been terribly behaved today, Seulgi,” Irene hushed low against Seulgi's ear, and the tickle of breath combined with the words being said – and who was saying them – caused the girl to tremble with a desperate, pathetic want beneath Irene's frame. “Whatever shall we do about that, hm?”

Irene unzipped the red dress from the back, tearing it off of Seulgi's body in one swift motion. She then began to grope at Seulgi's ass with both hands and a rough touch; she was going to get her fill, and cared little about what Seulgi felt while she did so, which only served to excite Seulgi all the more.

Seulgi squirmed and twitched relentlessly against her hands, forcibly burying her own scorching hot face in her pillow to stop herself from being vocal. Every nerve ending in her body hummed from being touched by Irene so unexpectedly; the only thing that could make this any better was if she could gaze upon the face of her beloved while she did so.

But Seulgi had no such luck. A hand at the back of her head viciously pushed her face further into the pillow, causing her to jolt with a shameless excitement yet again.

“Seeing you in such a state makes me happy,” Irene murmured into Seulgi's ear, licking along the shell of it with a smug laugh. Seulgi hissed through clenched teeth, clinging to the edge of the bed's mattress with all of her strength to keep herself grounded, if only a little. “All of this desperation... it's for me, isn't it? Just for me?”

Seulgi had been well trained over the years to reply to Irene's inquiries without a moment's hesitation. To fight that well-ingrained instinct was only getting harder with how desperately she wanted to answer the questions she was being posed as Irene did as she pleased with her body.

_My everything is for you, Lady Irene. Every beat of my heart, every breath that I draw, every thought that passes through my mind, it's all for you, for you! Oh, please...!_

Propping herself up with a firm hand, Irene began to grind her hips against Seulgi's ass in a deliberately slow, teasing manner; knowing her every word and move was driving Seulgi to the tipping point of madness, she drank deep in the wine that was her agony, and all of her pent-up frustrations throughout the day; her burning need to comply to Irene's every whim being the very thing that would bring on her downfall.

She knew full well that was the reason Seulgi was acting in such an unusually bratty manner all day. To Irene, holding such all-encompassing power and control over another person was the ultimate arousal, and Seulgi provided that thrill in spades.

A quiet moan slipped from Irene's lips as she continued to rock against the woman she owned so entirely, and that small sound was all it took for Seulgi's will to finally crack. She whimpered softly into the pillow she so urgently buried her face into, but the sound still met Irene's ears; immediately she stayed her hips, chuckling under her breath.

“Was that a _sound_ , Seulgi? Even though I told you to stay deathly quiet, hm?”

Seulgi's body was burning by this point; red hot with an unquenchable desire and aching for more of her touch so badly it almost hurt, she let her eyes flutter shut in dismay. Had she blown her chance to be touched by Irene properly, thanks to her own lack of self-control?

Though, wasn't it that very thing that had gotten her into trouble in the first place?

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that,” Irene said, the self-satisfied smirk on her face dripping through her voice, “so let's carry on. No noise, now.”

The brusque reminder sent another intense wave of arousal through Seulgi's entire body, and what Irene did next only made it a thousand times worse.

The sudden confident slip of Irene's fingers against Seulgi's clit made her see white. It was only a quick brush of her fingertips; clearly, she was gearing up to tease Seulgi even further, but even that miniscule contact from the woman who owned her everything was enough to push her over the edge.

With an abrupt, high-pitched moan, and a sharp jolt of her body away from Irene's fingers, Seulgi came _hard_ from hardly being touched at all. It was a shuddering, all-encompassing orgasm that left her whole body pulsing and trembling afterward.

“...You finished so soon?” Irene asked.

Seulgi slumped further against the bed with uneven breath and a red-hot face, silently nodding her head in reply. She felt utterly _ashamed_ at how quickly she had came, despite everything, and awaited Irene's response with a nervous flutter in her stomach.

She was surprised to hear a smug laugher coming from behind her. Shifting herself off of laying across Seulgi's back and hovering over her hips instead, Irene began to run her hands along Seulgi's body, moving up from her still trembling thighs and letting her palms drag all the way up to her shoulders, all so she could lightly drag her nails along the hot flesh of Seulgi's back.

Seulgi exhaled with a hot puff of breath, the motions causing her skin to sing beneath the surprisingly gentle ministrations.

“You were _that_ riled up, were you? All because you couldn't help feeling so _jealous_?”

Again she nodded, but could not work up the courage to look back at Irene. The burning blush that dusted her pretty body refused to cease, and her head swam and spun from her every word.

There was a small pause before Irene spoke once more.

“You may make as much noise as you like, now, because I want to hear what you have to say about your behaviour today. Understood?”

“...Ah, um... of course, Lady Irene,” Seulgi mumbled between ragged gasps for air, her voice tinged with a slight rasp from a lack of use.

“Good.”

With no warning, Irene gripped at Seulgi's inner thighs and pried them apart with one rough, domineering motion; just as Seulgi turned her head to look back at her beloved, Irene pushed two fingers into Seulgi's wet slit with an embarrassing ease.

“A-ah!”

Clinging to the bedsheets until her knuckles flushed white, Seulgi gasped loudly as her body adjusted to Irene's sudden, erratic pace of fucking her. She slipped her fingers in and out of Seulgi with a wild roughness that made the woman beneath her very, _very_ vocal.

Each breathless plea for more, and every last moan, be it small and soft or loud and drawn out, spurred Irene on, only quickening her pace with each passing moment.

“Nnn! L-Lady Irene, I...!”

Seulgi lulled her face back into the pillow as she enjoyed Irene's onslaught, though that ended up muffling her excitable noises a bit too much for Irene's liking. Reaching upward with her free hand and wrapping it up in Seulgi's hair for the second time that day, Irene pulled hard until Seulgi's face was out of the pillow once more, and held it there with a steady grip as she continued to fuck Seulgi with a reckless abandon.

“Tell me about today, Seulgi,” Irene said in a demanding tone, grinning wickedly when Seulgi's beautiful, desperate voice filled the room all over again.

“N-now...!?” Seulgi whined as she shifted onto her knees, gasping airily as Irene tugged at her hair again.

“That was an _order_ ,” Irene said with a finality that Seulgi couldn't argue against.

Though she tried to keep up her cold demeanour, cracks were beginning to show in Irene's armour, as well; she was exerting herself with an intensity that drove Seulgi wild, her arm burning with the wonderful sensation that comes with fucking at such an aggressive pace, and loving every second of it. The bed beneath them creaked loudly in time with each thrust of Irene's hand, though the sound was drowned out by how loud the two of them were being.

She was getting off on how obsessed Seulgi was with her which, in its own way, drove her to the brink of obsession, just as she drove Seulgi on a constant basis.

Though she would sooner die than admit such a thing _aloud_ , Irene knew, deep down, that she wasn't the only one in this strange relationship with a mesmerising power over the other. Seeing Seulgi sulk, creep and fume over her had been driving her absolutely _wild_ all day, and she yearned for nothing more than to have the woman in question beneath her in a mess of want like this.

...The only way Seulgi would _ever_ let her feelings flow freely was if it was an order from Lady Irene.

“I-I felt terribly jealous of Joy today, ah, getting to be so close to you, Lady Irene,” Seulgi managed between gasps and moans, still thoroughly enjoying being fucked as she was forced to speak. “I wanted to... to be with you all day, _ah_... and...”

“ _And_?” Irene goaded, the pulsing between her own legs worsening as she watched the last remnants of Seulgi's rationale slip away in real-time.

“And I-I want to be with you constantly, oh, I never want to be away from your side, Lady Irene...!”

“ _More_ ,” Irene demanded with a heated gasp of breath, and Seulgi groaned needily in reply; it wasn't often she was privileged enough to hear Irene so aching with arousal, give that her demeanour in bed was usually a more quiet, composed one; but something about today was different. They could both feel the electricity in the air, and that crackling and pulsing wasn't about to subside anytime soon.

“I want you all t-to myself...! I would kill for you, die for you, I-I would slaughter everyone on this earth if it meant – if it meant I could be in your presence all the time! Nnh...!”

The both of them had reached a bursting point; Irene from Seulgi being so uncharacteristically shameless, which made Irene fuck her to the point of breaking and Seulgi from being utterly overwhelmed by the sensations at play – Irene being in such an insatiably rough state, Irene's voice coming in quick, heated bursts as she used her intense strength to keep up such an intense pace, the fact that _Irene was touching her_ ; it was all too much.

And so, for the second time that day, Seulgi came; but the second time was decidedly more animated than the first. Her back arched in a pleasing manner as a loud moan rang through her room – being able to be so vocal so freely was a privilege she didn't know it was so difficult to be without.

Moan after moan spilled out from her trembling lips as the tidal wave-sized crash of her orgasm made her completely, utterly delirious, mumbling many thanks and frantic words of praise in Irene's name as she came down from her high.

Irene fought hard to catch her breath after the fact, the sensation of Seulgi's pussy tightening around her fingers only making the ache between her legs all that much worse. She pulled them out with reluctance, and Seulgi whined softly at the loss of Irene being inside of her.

“...Foolish girl. As if you have anything to be jealous of,” Irene mumbled from behind her hand.

Seulgi lazily rolled onto her back, looking at Irene quizzically between her own gasps of breath.

At first, she thought she'd misheard.

“...Huh?”

Something flashed across Irene's flushed red face as she clicked her tongue; was it annoyance? No, not quite... Seulgi had trouble placing the expression.

“If you need me to explain, I'll do no such thing,” Irene stated with a blunt tone as she heaved herself off of Seulgi's bed, refusing to turn back to look at the girl. She busied herself with smoothing out the creases in her red blazer, and patting rogue strands of her hair back in place in front of Seulgi's mirror; her face still a flushed shade, from the physicality of it all, Seulgi assumed.

“But, I don't-”

“Have you forgotten? We've a feast to get back to,” Irene muttered, still refusing to meet Seulgi's eye. “I'll see you there.”

With that, Irene saw herself out of the room, leaving Seulgi a naked, dishevelled mess on her own bed. The girl took her time getting into her dress thanks to her limbs feeling like lead from how exhausted she was from it all; but as she did so, she played the scene over and over again in her head.

“ _As if you have anything to be jealous of”... what is it that she's trying to say?_ Seulgi struggled against the wave of exhaustion that crashed against the shores of mind, but whatever subtext there were to Lady Irene's words was lost on her in that moment.

And so, Seulgi did the only thing she could think of to do after everything that had happened; she shook her head with a raspy groan, adjusted her clothing just enough to mask the fact that she had been fucked so intensely, and began stumbling out of her room to rejoin her fellow housemates.

She would think more on it another time, another day. For now, she couldn't keep Lady Irene waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [follow my gay ass on twitter](https://twitter.com/theyuriunnie) where i talk about nothing but girl groups (especially red velvet and loona)!! i love making new friends and dishing about things like the girls and ships for fun, so if that sounds good to you let's be friends!! as always, thanks so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed it!! ♥♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> [follow my gay ass on twitter](https://twitter.com/theyuriunnie) where i act a fool and gush about girl groups, let's be friends! thanks so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed it!! ♥


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